Four Ways Sara Sidle Could Have Come Home
by Chelles
Summary: There are so many ways it could have happened. But, as the evidence changes, so must the theory.
1. Theory One: The Surprise

A/N: If Jorja Fox's departure from CSI did anything, it was to spur a million different theories as to how Sara might return. For this story, I plan to take a few of them and spin them into my ideas of what could have happened. I intend to post a new chapter presenting a different scenario each week until the premiere. After that, I'll wind this up with my take on Sara's actual homecoming.

I hope you enjoy this story. Thanks for starting this journey with me!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

**Four Ways Sara Sidle Could Have Come Home … And, One Way She Did**

_Theory One: The Surprise_

Nine months.

It had taken Sara nine months to lay her ghosts to rest. She had been on a journey that had emotionally taken her to places she had never been, even as she had physically crisscrossed the country visiting all the places of her past. San Francisco, Boston, San Francisco again … Now, there was only one place left to go.

She sank back into her seat and sighed with contentment. Tony Bennett may have left his heart in San Francisco, but she had left hers in Las Vegas. It was time to go back to reclaim it.

As the plane descended over Las Vegas, Sara pressed her face against the window. She grinned as she picked out familiar buildings and landmarks. She wasn't just looking for the buildings that everyone associated with Vegas – she was looking for the places that _she_ associated with _home_. She suddenly found herself wishing that their flight pattern could have taken them over the lab. She wanted so much to see it. It was such a reminder of _him_.

Sara didn't look away from the window until the plane eased onto the runway. As soon as the flight crew declared it permissible, she, like her fellow passengers, took out her cell phone and pressed the power button. As she waited for it to turn on and find service, she realized that she was bouncing her feet on the floor. She slowly stopped jiggling her legs and looked down at her hands. They were twisting nervously in her lap. She took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Calm down," she whispered to herself. "Just calm down."

The plane docked at the gate and the slow deplaning process began. Glad for the excuse to delay the inevitable, Sara rationalized that it would be useless to call him while she was fighting her way off the plane. She'd likely drop the phone. She'd wait until she was inside the airport.

Fifteen minutes and a trip to the restroom later, she realized that her excuses had run out. She found an out of the way spot where she thought it would be unlikely that she'd be trampled and slowly pressed the buttons to call Grissom.

The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Hi," he said, his smile carrying to her.

"Hi," she replied, trying to sound calm.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You sound … odd."

"I'm fine," she said. "Actually, I'm more than fine."

"Well, that's great," Grissom said, his voice conveying surprise and … hope. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

"I guess that would be where I am right now."

"Where are you?"

"Where are you?" she countered.

"At home."

"Are you working tonight?"

"No, I'm off. Why?"

"Good," she said, suddenly feeling an inexplicable rush of delirious happiness, "because I need a ride."

"A … ride?"

"Yes."

"Sara, where are you?"

"I'm at the airport."

There was a long pause. "What airport?" Grissom asked at last, a determined calm holding his voice steady.

"McCarran."

This time, there was no pause. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"I'll be waiting," Sara said happily.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

A warm feeling spread through her. "I love you, too."

* * *

She was sitting in baggage claim when he arrived. After scanning the room for a moment, he saw her, alone on a bench, staring off into space. Two suitcases and a duffle bag sat on the floor in front of her. He wondered how she had come up with so much luggage when most of her things were still in their house.

It wasn't until he was halfway to her that she turned and saw him. As soon as their eyes met, a beaming smile lit up her face. She leapt to her feet, and he began to run, desperately trying to close the distance between them as quickly as possible.

She was in his arms as soon as she was close enough to touch. They clung to each other, both murmuring tender, senseless endearments as they relearned the feel of each other's embrace. Grissom finally pulled back enough to look into her brown eyes, watching the tears shimmer across them even as they sparkled with utter happiness. Momentarily unable to speak, he leaned down to kiss her.

Sara responded at once, kissing him with all the love and passion that she had been saving during their time apart. She felt his fingers in her hair and moaned softly. Oh, she had missed him. So very, very much.

Grissom broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you, too," Sara said, a tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. "I never want to have to miss you again."

"You won't," he promised. "You won't."

She hugged him tightly for a moment, feeling several more tears fall. She finally pulled back to look at him, smiling in spite of the tears. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Grissom brushed her tears away and smiled at her. "Welcome home."


	2. Theory Two: The Shock

A/N: Thanks so much for the incredible response to my first theory on Sara's homecoming! I hope you enjoy this one as much.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Theory Two: The Shock_

It had been an awful day.

After spending four days searching for a missing toddler, Grissom had been the one to find her abused, broken body. Dumped in a riverbed, he knew that far more damage had been done to that little girl than the river could have hoped to cause. After the longest interrogation he had been a part of in years, he and Jim had managed to force a confession from the little girl's father.

Brass had been just as horrified as Grissom by the father's calm, detached description of the methodical way he had killed his daughter. It was, therefore, no surprise when the detective appeared in Grissom's office doorway holding a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"I thought we should relax before we headed home," he said, walking into the dim room.

"Yeah," Grissom replied, sitting back in his chair and taking off his glasses, "good idea."

Jim sat down across from him and poured each of them a glass of scotch. "You know, there are days when I really hate this job."

"I know," Grissom said. "Me, too."

Jim raised his glass. "Here's to one less child abuser on the streets."

Grissom chinked his glass against Jim's. "I just wish we could have stopped him sooner."

"How were we to know?" Brass sighed. "Her mother was covering up for him. They hid the truth. They lied to doctors, who didn't have the proof to refute what they said. Callie was too little to speak for herself. She wasn't old enough to go to school, so there were no teachers to notice what was happening and report it." He sipped his drink. "The system can't save everyone."

Grissom shook his head. "Sometimes, I think we need a better system."

"We do," Jim agreed. "But, for now, we have to live with the imperfection. Think of where we'd be without it."

Grissom shivered. "It's so much harder with children," he said slowly. "They're so innocent. To have that innocence taken away like that …"

Brass nodded. "No one deserves to die the way she did, least of all a baby." He exhaled. "This is the sort of case that makes me question why I do this at all."

Grissom scrubbed his hands over his face. "A couple years ago, I gave a tour of the lab to a group of high school seniors. They were all planning to major in forensics in college. After spending a day here, particularly in the morgue, about half of them changed their minds."

Brass smiled. "I could see that."

Grissom gave him a faint smile. "At the end of the tour, one of them asked me why I do this." He shook his head. "On days like this, I think of that moment. Of that eighteen-year-old asking me why I'd dedicate my life to pulling apart dead bodies, picking up the tiniest of fibers and studying pictures of horrific events. And then, I remember what I told those kids: I do this because the dead can't speak for themselves. Callie couldn't speak for herself when she was alive, and even less so now that she's dead. She needed us to be her voice. She needed us to realize that her father didn't deserve to have children. She needed us … and, we were there for her."

Brass raised his glass in acknowledgement of Grissom's words and drained it. "It's what brings us back day after day."

"It is," Grissom agreed.

"So, we should be congratulating each other on a job well done?"

"Let's not go too far," Grissom said with a slight smile. "But, I suppose we should be glad that we were here when someone needed us."

"And, we'll be here tomorrow for the people that need us then," Brass said.

Grissom nodded. "Where else would we be?"

Jim stood up, collecting his scotch and glasses. "If we're going to do that, we'd better get home and get some rest."

"Yeah," Grissom acknowledged. "I could certainly do with the rest."

Brass nodded and looked down at his still-seated friend. "Don't dwell on this," he cautioned. "Let it go."

Grissom nodded, his eyes suddenly very tired. "You, too."

"I will," Brass promised. He smiled slightly. "See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Grissom echoed.

Jim left the office and Grissom sighed. He rubbed his eyes, allowing himself one last moment of weakness. Then, he methodically packed away his things. It was time to leave his office. It was time to go home.

* * *

His street looked quiet when Grissom arrived. It was late enough in the morning that his neighbors were either at work or taking their children to preschool. Thinking that the quiet provided the prefect backdrop for his rather introspective mood, he walked slowly to the front door and pushed it open.

As usual, Hank ran to meet him with a wagging tail and booming bark. However, for once, Grissom barely noticed him. He was far too distracted by the smell that clung to the air. He stood stock-still, breathing deeply.

"Sara's perfume," he whispered.

Because of their job, Sara rarely wore perfume. She only wore it when they were alone together, away from the lab and crime scenes and work. It was a smell that he associated with happiness, with calm, with … love. He hadn't smelled it since before she had left in November. Why, then, could he suddenly smell it in his house again, after the many long months of her absence?

"Hi."

Grissom's head snapped around and his mouth fell open. There she was. His Sara, standing in his living room, twisting her hands in front of her, smiling almost uncertainly, and looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

"Sara." The one word came out in a strangled whisper as he slowly came back to his senses.

"Gil," she whispered. Although she had been the one to come to him, she looked as though she had no idea what to do or what to say.

Unable to formulate simple words, let alone sentences, Grissom closed the distance between them and grabbed her into a bone-crushing hug. Sara hugged him back, clinging to him almost desperately.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't warn you that I'd be here. I wanted to call. I wanted to tell you that I was coming home. But …"

Grissom pulled back enough to look at her. After staring into her eyes for a long moment, he lowered his lips to hers in the gentlest, yet most sensuous kiss they had ever shared.

After breaking the kiss, Grissom looked deeply into her eyes again. Sara kept her eyes locked with his, watching confusion, shadows and fear cross his face.

"Gil?" she whispered, running her fingers over his cheek.

"You are … you're _home_, right?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Sara smiled. "Yes," she said firmly. "I'm home."

Relief and happiness washed over him in a wave of dizzying love. Sighing with contentment, Grissom pulled her into another kiss.

It had been a wonderful day.


	3. Theory Three: The Plan

A/N: This one is a bit longer than the other chapters. I just couldn't seem to stop once I got started! I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Theory Three: The Plan_

"Good morning, Mom."

Laura smiled at her daughter. "Good morning, baby. How are you?"

Sara slid into her usual chair at the kitchen table and gave her mother a smile that simultaneously conveyed happiness, surprise and relief. "I'm … good."

"Yeah?" Laura asked, getting up to pour her a cup of tea.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I know I didn't tell you much when I got home last night, but I think that seeing Dad's grave really … helped me."

Laura put the tea down in front of Sara and squeezed her shoulder. "You've made peace with him."

"I have," Sara agreed. "It's taken me so long, but I think that I finally … I don't know. I just feel … at peace. With Dad, with the past … with myself."

Laura sat back down and took Sara's hands, squeezing them tightly. "What we lived through, Sara … no one should ever have to experience anything like that. I'm just sorry I put you through it. If I hadn't married him …"

"I wouldn't exist," Sara said, cutting her off. "I know it was horrible, I know it was … I know that without it, neither of us would be the people we are today. And, Mom, now that I've truly gotten to know you as an adult, I don't think I'd go back and change any of it. I like us as we are."

Laura's eyebrows shot up. "You _have_ made peace with the past. I think you're more evolved than I am, sweetheart."

Sara smiled slightly. "It was either that or self-destruct." She turned to look out the window, sorrow peeking into her eyes for the first time since she had entered the kitchen. "I couldn't let myself implode. Even if it nearly killed me to leave him, I couldn't stay and let Gil watch that happen."

"And, now?" Laura asked gently.

"Now?" Sara turned to look at her mother again.

Laura smiled. "Sara. You've made your peace with the past. You've done what you came to do. Why torment yourself any longer?"

Sara bit her lip. "I …"

"You love him," Laura said in the same gentle voice. "You don't like being away from him. He makes you happy. When you first came here, talking to him on the phone was the only thing that could make you smile."

"I know …"

"Then, why are you sitting here, talking to me? Go call him. Tell him you're coming home. Book your flight."

"I'm scared, Mom," Sara said, her voice breaking slightly. "When I was in Vegas, I started to fall apart. What if I go back there and come completely undone?"

"You might," Laura said simply. "But, looking at you today, seeing what you are now and remembering what you were when you were a little girl, I just don't think that's going to happen. You're a survivor, Sara, and you're far stronger than you know. You've beaten back everything that threatened to bring you under, and, take it from someone who's been there, it's not going to be a problem anymore."

"But …"

"If I'm wrong, then you're left with two options," Laura said. "You can stay in Vegas and let Gil be the support system he wants to be for you. Or, if you'd rather not do that, you can always come back here. My door is always open to you, and your bedroom is always ready."

Tears gathered in Sara's eyes. She drew a shaky breath. "You really think I'm ready?"

"I do," Laura said with a slight shrug. "But, it doesn't really matter what I think. What matters is what you think. Do _you_ think you're ready?"

Sara nodded. "I miss him, Mom," she nearly whispered. "So much that it hurts."

Laura smiled. "Then, what are you doing sitting in this kitchen, talking to me? Go call your fiancé and get your ass back to Vegas!"

Laughing, Sara brushed away the last of her tears. "All right! I'll go call him!"

As Sara ran up the stairs to her bedroom, Laura brushed aside an unexpected tear of her own. After missing out on Sara's teenage years, she had never thought that she'd get another chance to help her daughter grow up. But, after so many years, she had finally gotten her chance – and, she wouldn't have traded it for the world.

* * *

Sara grabbed her cell phone from her nightstand and pressed the speed dial button for Grissom. It only rang twice before he answered.

"Hi, honey," he said.

Sara giggled. "Not at work, I take it?"

"Oh, no, I'm in the conference room with the entire team," Grissom said, his voice so serious that Sara nearly believed him.

"What?"

Grissom laughed. "I'm kidding. Hank and I just got back from a walk."

"How's my baby?" Sara asked, a grin spreading across her face.

"I'm fine."

"Stop that," Sara laughed. "How's the _dog_?"

"He's fine, too," Grissom said with a chuckle. He paused for a beat. "We both miss you," he said quietly.

"Well," Sara said, her hands trembling slightly, "I may be able to do something about that."

"What do you mean?"

"I went on a trip this weekend," she said.

"Oh. Where did you go?"

"To see my dad's grave."

"Oh, Sara."

"I needed to do it," she said in a rush. "I've dealt with so much since I've been away, but I kept putting that off and … I finally realized that it was all I had left to do."

"And, now you've done it?"

"Now I've done it," Sara agreed. "And, after talking to my mom this morning, I think … I think it's time for me to come home."

Grissom released the breath he had been holding. "You're sure?" As much as he wanted her back, he knew that he'd never be able to survive losing her again.

"I'm sure," she said, confidence finding its way into her voice. "I want to book a flight, but I want to make sure you're off when I get back."

"Does that mean you expect a ride home from the airport?" Grissom teased, feeling a lightness he hadn't experienced in months.

"Oh, that goes without saying," Sara said, her eyes twinkling and her voice lowering seductively. "But, I was also thinking that it might be good if you were off for a few days after I get home. We have a lot of … catching up to do."

"Book your flight for sometime after next week," Grissom said quickly. "I already have next week's schedule posted, but I can take off the week after."

Sara laughed. "I'll call you with the flight details."

"I'll be waiting."

"I should go, then, and start making arrangements."

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"And, Gil?"

"Yes?"

She smiled, feeling tears threatening again. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Sara closed her phone, but her beaming smile stayed in place. She was sure she'd never stop smiling again.

* * *

"Are you sure you have everything you need?"

"I'm sure I do."

"Here, wait. Put this in your bag."

"Put what in my … Mom, no! I don't need a package of cookies!"

"Yes, you do," Laura insisted. "You'll want a snack on the plane, and you know they charge for everything now. Wait, let me get you a bottle of water. You don't want to pay for that, either."

"Mom!" Sara exclaimed, laughing. "Stop! I don't need snacks or water! The flight is only an hour and a half!"

"But, what if you're delayed?"

"There are shops and restaurants in the airport."

"Which means you'd be paying for your food. Just take this."

"Mom, I don't –"

"Sara, please," Laura said. "Let me mother you one last time before you leave."

Smiling helplessly, Sara nodded. How could she fight that?

"Here," Laura said, giving her the cookies and retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "You're too thin, anyway. The cookies will do you good."

Sara rolled her eyes and shook her head, but put the food and beverage into her bag. She didn't have the heart to tell her mother that they'd never let her pass security with the bottled water.

"You're sure you don't want me to drive you to the airport?"

Sara shook her head. "It's better this way. I can say good bye to you here, without hundreds of people watching. And, you won't have to worry about fighting traffic to get home."

Laura smiled and opened her arms. "Oh, Sara. I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Mom."

Laura pulled back enough to look into Sara's eyes. "I want to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Yes. Thank you for letting me help you with … everything." She smiled slightly. "Even when you were a first grader, struggling with your spelling words, you never wanted my help. To help you now … with something like this …" Tears filled her eyes. "Well. It's meant a lot to me."

"It's meant a lot to me, too," Sara said, swallowing her own tears. "Thank you, too, Mom. So, so much. I never could have done this without you."

Laura brushed away Sara's tears, then kissed her cheeks. "You take care of yourself, little girl. And, make sure you call me when you're ready to make wedding plans. I certainly want to help with that."

"I will," Sara promised. She hugged her mother tightly again. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. This house will be so quiet without you."

At her mother's wistful expression, a sudden longing to take her along grabbed Sara. "Mom, you don't have to stay here. Come to Vegas with me."

Laura smiled, but shook her head. "This is home for me, Sara. I can't just leave it."

"Okay," Sara sighed. "But, if you change your mind … my door is always open to you."

"Just like mine is to you."

Sara hugged her one last time, then turned to pick up her bags. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Smiling through her tears, Sara stepped out the door and crossed to the waiting cab. It was time to leave the past in the past, and to look toward the future.

* * *

Sara's flight was delayed. Grissom sighed as he looked from the arrivals board to the daisies in his hand. Assuming that the delay remained at the half hour that was listed, he thought they'd be fine. Much longer, and he'd have to find a way to keep them fresh.

He wasn't sure what had prompted him to bring flowers to welcome her home. Sara wasn't exactly a "flowers" sort of girl. It just seemed like the thing to do. And, when he had seen the daisies, he had to have them for her. They were sunny and bright and made him think of happiness – and, to Grissom, having Sara home again was happiness.

Resigning himself to waiting, he bought the _New York Times_ and settled himself in a café with a cup of coffee. He'd do the crossword and catch up on the news to pass the time.

* * *

Within several minutes, Grissom was completely absorbed in his puzzle. He lost all track of time. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he jumped. He shook his head, hoping that it wasn't the lab calling him in for a case. He had made it quite clear that this was one time when he would _not_ tolerate being disturbed.

"Grissom."

"Hey. Where are you?"

"Sara! Where are _you_?"

"I just made it off the plane – _finally_. I'm almost afraid to call my mom. She was so sure I'd be delayed …"

"I'm in the café next to baggage claim," Grissom said. He glanced at the daisies he had laid on the table in front of him. They had held up well during the delay. "Do you want me to get you a coffee or something?"

"No, I'm fine," Sara said. "I'm almost to you now. Where are you in the café?"

"I'm leaving it now," he said. "I'll wait in the general vicinity."

"Okay. I'll see you in a minute."

"Okay."

They hung up, and Grissom picked up his paper, empty coffee cup and flowers. He threw away the paper and cup, and popped a mint into his mouth. He did not want to kiss her for the first time in months right after drinking coffee.

He had just started on his third mint when he saw her coming toward him. Crunching away the last of the mint, he started forward, grinning broadly. Sara caught sight of him, and a smile lit up her face.

"Hi!" she cried as soon as she was within earshot.

"Hi," Grissom replied. "I brought you a little welcome home gift."

Sara took the bouquet from him and stared at it in amazement. "Flowers?" The only other time he had given her anything flower-like was when he had sent her the plant after she threatened to quit. It just wasn't something they did. But, to receive flowers from him now … It was so romantic, so … loving. Tears filled her eyes. "You got me flowers?"

"Shouldn't I have?" he asked, fear creeping into his eyes. "I'm sorry, I –"

Sara silenced him by pressing her lips against his. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much."

Grissom smiled and took the flowers from her hands. He put them on top of her carry-on bag, then pulled her into his arms.

"I think we need both to have our hands free for this moment."

Sara giggled and wound her arms around his neck. "I agree."

Grissom leaned down as she leaned up, and their lips met in a sweet, welcoming kiss.


	4. Theory Four: The Relocation

A/N: With the exception of its general theme, this "reunion" is nothing like I had planned. But, I like it, and I hope you will, too.

As you can imagine based on the story's title, this is my last _theory_ on how Sara could have come home. But, I do intend to wrap up this story full of speculation with a bit of truth. Next weekend, I'll post a chapter based on the actual reunion we see this Thursday.

Thanks again for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this reunion.

I don't own CSI.

* * *

_Theory Four: The Relocation_

Grissom was eating a wonderful slice of apple pie, covered in vanilla ice cream. His favorite childhood treat had been reserved for special occasions. As an adult, he often found himself searching for an occasion special enough to merit apple pie a la mode. He must have found one. He –

_Ring._

His pie was ringing. He tried to answer it, but he only wound up with a handful of ice cream. He tried again –

Struggling mightily, Grissom finally managed to open his eyes. He groped across his nightstand until his fingers came into contact with his phone. He opened it and let his head fall back against the pillows.

"Grissom."

"I miss you."

Grissom smiled a bittersweet smile, finally feeling fully awake. He could hear the wind whipping past her phone and the waves crashing in the background. She was obviously sitting on the beach while she talked to him. "I miss you, too, Sara."

"No, you don't understand," Sara said. "I – Gil, I can't do this anymore. I can't stand not seeing you. I need to see you again."

"Okay," Grissom said, sitting up straight in bed. "Okay. I'll be on the next flight out."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sara said, her voice a bit weary. "We both know you can't do that. You have work."

"And I have three weeks of vacation time I haven't taken," Grissom countered. "Catherine can take care of everything until I get back."

"But, that's just it," Sara said.

"What's just it?"

"I don't want there to be an 'until I get back' clause in this."

"Sara … what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I want us to be together again. Forever."

"Are you saying you're ready to come home?" Grissom held his breath, awaiting her answer.

"Yes and no," Sara said slowly.

"Okay …"

"I'm ready to be with you again," she explained slowly. "I'm ready to live my life again – my _real_ life, not the 'recovery life' I have here."

"That sounds like the 'yes' part," Grissom said.

"It is."

"So, what's the 'no' part?"

"I don't want to go back to Vegas," Sara said in a rush. Tears filled her eyes and choked her voice. "There are so many good memories there. So many. But, there are so many bad memories, too. And, right now, I feel like the bad memories outweigh the good ones. I just … I want us to go somewhere else. Somewhere we've never been before. Somewhere where we can just be … us."

Grissom exhaled slowly. "You want to move away from Vegas?"

"Yes."

"And never go back?"

"Yes." Sara paused, horror filling her as she realized what she was doing. "Oh, God. Oh, Gil. I'm so sorry. This was such a dumb idea. I didn't even think … this is your life, too. I'm asking you to throw away everything you've ever –"

"I'll do it," Grissom interrupted.

Sara's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"I lived in Vegas for years before you came here," he said. "But, until you were here, it wasn't home to me. Without you … it hasn't been home in a long time. You said in your letter that our life together was your only home. It's my home, too, Sara. Since you left, all I've wanted was to somehow _go home_. And, if that means it's going to be somewhere other than Vegas, then that's fine with me."

Sara's tears spilled over. "Oh, Gil. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," he said quietly. He cleared his throat. "So, do you know where our somewhere might be?"

"Somewhere on a coast," Sara said, staring out into the expanse of water in front of her. "I miss living by the ocean."

"The coast."

"Yeah. But, not here. I want it to be somewhere totally new for both of us."

"Okay," Grissom said. "I'll tell you what: I will use two weeks of vacation time to come to see you – but, I won't leave for at least two weeks. We both need to take the next two weeks to come up with at least three coastal cities we'd consider living in. We'll take our two weeks together to decide where we want to go. We can visit the cities and look at some real estate. How does that sound?"

Sara grinned. "Perfect."

* * *

Two weeks later, Sara stood in the airport, twisting her purse straps around in her hands as she waited for Grissom. She knew that she shouldn't be nervous. She was going to see her fiancé for the first time in months.

As she thought of seeing him, a slow smile spread across her face. No, she wasn't nervous about seeing Grissom. She was nervous about what they were going to do – about starting a completely new life.

Then, she saw him, and all her nervousness melted away. He was walking down the hall toward her with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes darting around as he searched for her. Sara saw him first and began to run toward him.

He saw her just before she reached him and stopped walking. The laptop bag slid to the floor as he opened his arms to catch her in a crushing embrace.

"You're here," Sara whispered against his neck, feeling tears gather in her eyes. "You're really here."

"Of course I'm here," he said, hugging her all the tighter. "The only thing I don't understand is how I stayed away for so long."

Sara pulled back to look at him for a long moment, staring at him as if to relearn the lines of his face. After getting lost in his eyes, she leaned forward to kiss him.

Kissing him, holding him, loving him … she didn't know how she had stayed away for so long, either.

* * *

"Did you make a list?" Sara asked.

"Yes," Grissom said. "Did you?"

"Right here," Sara said, dropping it onto the table in front of him.

Grissom set down his coffee cup and put on his glasses to read her list. "I think we've got our work cut out for us. Between the two of us, we've come up with over twenty places we'd consider living."

Sara sat down across from him and stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. "How are we going to decide in two weeks?"

"We don't have to decide right away," Grissom said. "I …"

Sara frowned slightly as he trailed off into silence. "Griss? You what?"

Grissom drew a deep breath. "I took all three weeks of vacation time I had saved."

"So, you're telling me we have three weeks?" Sara's frown deepened. "Look, sweetheart, I'm thrilled that we have more time together, but you seem a bit jumpy for a man who's trying to tell me he took an extra week of vacation."

"I was thinking about what you said," Grissom said. "About not wanting to have to say good bye again. I don't want to, either."

"Gil, what are you trying to tell me?"

"I turned in my notice. I've left the lab."

Sara's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "What?" she whispered.

"I was going to have to do it eventually anyway," Grissom rationalized. "Why put off the inevitable? Everyone understood. Catherine said she'd been expecting it for quite some time. Nick even volunteered to take care of Hank until we get settled. There's just one thing …"

"What's that?"

"I promised that, once we have things straightened out, we'd both go back so they can give us a going away party."

Sara's eyes widened again. "Grissom. I hate things like that. _You_ hate things like that. Why would you agree to it?"

"Because, for nearly twenty years, the lab was the closest thing to a home I had. For the past decade, the team has been my family – and, your family, too. This is something they want to do for us. How could I tell them no?"

Sara nodded slowly. "Okay. I see your point. When is this party?"

"I told them we'd call them once we had settled on where we want to live, then they can start planning. I thought that adding a trip to Vegas in with everything else would be a bit much."

"Yeah …" Sara said, slowly realizing what a daunting task they had set for themselves. "Gil … how are we going to do this? How are we going to decide where to live?"

"We'll go one city at a time," he said confidently. He reached across to grab her hand, gently running his thumb over the back of it. "We'll find a place where we can be happy, Sara. I know we will."

She smiled slightly. "Just being with you again makes me happy."

"You make me happy, too." Grissom brushed a kiss against the hand he held. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too."


	5. Reality One: The Sorrow

A/N: Sara is home again, and this story must end here. I'd like to thank you so much for sharing in this journey with me. Your support has meant so much to me.

And, now, for the warning…

THIS STORY CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 901, "FOR WARRICK." If you haven't seen it and wish to remain unspoiled, please stop reading!

I don't own CSI. Inspiration and some dialogue are borrowed from episode 901, "For Warrick."

* * *

_Reality One: The Sorrow_

"He's over here!"

"Sir! Sir, we need you to release the victim."

Grissom looked up at the paramedics and nodded, slowly releasing his vice-like grip on Warrick. He eased his friend's lifeless body back onto the ground and edged away, letting the paramedics do their jobs.

Even as they worked, even though he knew there was nothing that could bring him back, Grissom kept urging Warrick to fight. He edged back a bit farther, silently slipping into prayer. Prayer that God would spare Warrick. That He would spare them all this unbearable loss.

Grissom leaned back on his heels, finally taking his eyes from Warrick. He looked down at his shirt. It was covered in blood. Red blood. _Warrick's blood_.

It was all his mind could process or accept. He was covered in Warrick's blood. Even as the paramedics pronounced Warrick's death, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. It was as though he were protecting himself from a horrible truth he couldn't handle. He was almost unaware of it as he slipped into a state of shock.

Grissom had no idea how long he stayed like that, crouched on the ground next to Warrick. He vaguely registered others' movements. The paramedics as they left. Others as they arrived. Nick. Brass. David.

Catherine.

Her gasping sobs as she looked at Warrick were heart-wrenching. Grissom looked up as she looked down and they made eye contact. After working so closely for so many years, after being such close friends for so many years, no words were needed. Grissom could read the pleading in her eyes as easily as if she had spoken the words.

She could read the despair and loss in the shake of his head as easily as if he as spoken the words.

They stared at each other for a long time before either could look away. Without saying a word, without touching each other, they offered comfort as only they could.

It wasn't until she muttered something about calling Greg that Grissom realized that he, too, had a phone call to make. He pulled his phone from his pocket with wooden fingers and pressed a few buttons.

It rang twice.

"Hey! You have good timing; I just got out of the shower. What's going on?"

"Sara," Grissom said thickly. He swallowed. "Sara."

"Griss?" Fear edged into her voice, crowding out the smile that he had heard only a moment before. "What's wrong?"

"Sara," he said again.

"Gil, you're scaring me," she said, obviously willing herself to remain calm. "Please, tell me what's wrong. Are you hurt?"

"No," he said slowly. "No, sweetheart, I'm not … Sara, something happened."

"Yeah, I can tell," she said. "Please, Gil, please tell me."

"Warrick …" He trailed off, blinking back the tears that wanted to rise to the surface. "Warrick was shot."

Sara gasped. "My God. Is he okay?"

"No," Grissom said heavily, "he's not."

"Gil?" Sara asked, her voice suddenly tiny and choked.

Grissom took a deep breath. His voice just above a whisper, he delivered the horrific news, "He didn't make it, Sara."

Sara gave a moan that turned into a sob. "What happened?" she exclaimed.

"I don't know yet," Grissom said slowly. "I … I've got to go. Ecklie's car is pulling up."

"Okay," Sara said. "Okay. Listen, Gil … I love you."

Grissom nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

In the two minutes it took for Ecklie to park his car and cross the crime scene tape, Grissom's phone was stowed away. The shock was beginning to come back. He was beginning to slip away …

"Gil, how do you want to handle this?"

The spell was broken. The investigator was back. Grissom stood up to answer the question.

"I want us to do this, Conrad."

* * *

Every action took a monumental effort. Climbing into the coroner's van with Warrick's body. Helping David wheel it to the morgue. Giving orders to Greg. Giving his blood-soaked jacket and shirt to Hodges. Showering. Changing into fresh clothes. Walking down the hall.

He turned into his office and stopped short. She was there.

Sara was home.

She was standing in front of his desk, leaning against a chair while she waited for him. She straightened up when she saw him, and took a hesitant step toward him. He began walking again, too; somehow, they met in the middle of the room, falling into the tightest embrace they had shared in months.

Grissom clung to her even as she clung to him. He could hear her sniffling as she fought back tears; he squeezed his eyes shut to do the same.

"I caught the first flight out," she whispered against his neck.

Grissom squeezed his eyes shut again and burrowed his chin deeper into her neck and shoulder. He held her as tightly as he could, wishing that everything else had been a dream, that only this moment with his Sara was reality.

"I love you," he whispered.

Sara choked back a sob. "I love you, too."

Grissom knew that in a few minutes, they'd sit down. In a few minutes, he'd start to talk, telling her everything. He'd tell her what it was like to hear the location of the downed officer on his radio, and to know that it had to be one of his guys. He'd tell her what it was like to see Warrick slumped over his steering wheel, a gaping bullet wound in his neck. What it was like to pull him from the car, to try desperately to help him, to beg him to fight. He'd tell her what it was like to watch Warrick die in his arms.

He'd watch as her teary brown eyes reflected his pain. He'd feel her hands on his, quietly assuring him that she was there. He'd listen as she spoke words of comfort as only she could.

But, for now, he just wanted to stay like his. He wanted to keep her in his arms, and to feel her arms wrapped around him. He wanted to feel her love, and to know that she could feel his. For now, it was enough.

For a moment, everything seemed bearable. Sara was home.

_Fin_


End file.
